


Resetting the Count

by INMH



Series: hc_bingo Fanfiction Fills 2016 [5]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Drama, Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Post-Movie(s), Spoilers, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 21:18:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7986544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Workplace accidents are to be expected when you’re (re)building a space-ship.</p><p>SPOILERS for Star Trek: Beyond</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resetting the Count

**Author's Note:**

> Scotty and Jaylah’s relationship in this movie gave me life. There better be more of this in the next one or I will _riot_.

By this point, Jaylah had grown accustomed to the odd outburst here and there.  
  
All those years in her house-ship, she worked alone- when she figured out how to make the music play, it chased away the silence that reminded her of her aloneness. When she enrolled in Starfleet and had her engineering tutoring sessions with Montgomery Scotty, the music was replaced by the sounds of other workers and their drills and hammers, and Montgomery Scotty’s loud directions and criticisms.  
  
“For Christ’s sake, Keenser, stop climbing that thing, _it’s a bloody missile!_ ”  
  
Jaylah smirked. Keenser and she got on well. Probably because they both agreed on how funny it was to get Montgomery Scotty angry and listen to him ramble on in his strange accent.  
  
She half-listened to Montgomery Scotty’s ranting as she worked, the way she had half-listened to her music in her house as she tried to repair it. She had never found dividing her attention difficult. Montgomery Scotty called it ‘bloody good at multi-tasking, you could teach some of the crew a thing or two’.  
  
Jaylah’s cheeks had heated the way they had when she was a child and her father had praised her fighting technique. Montgomery Scotty did not pat her head, did not etch little symbols into the staff to indicate that the user was far more than just competent at their skill. But his praise for her accomplishments seemed to affect her much in the same way that her father’s had.  
  
A bolt came loose. Jaylah frowned; this was the second time it had slipped out. Clearly the piece was faulty.  
  
This, too, she had familiarity with. Many times when she was repairing her house the metal of the old ship failed her, coming loose or breaking completely. Her instincts told her to simply screw the bolt tighter; there were few, if any, spare parts to be found on Altamid, which had often forced her to scavenge from other fallen ships. She had no choice but to make due with what she found.  
  
It felt like waste, but better waste than knowing that her thriftiness might-  
  
The cacophony of crashing metal set every nerve in Jaylah’s body on fire, forcing her to her feet, making her reach for the staff that was not on her hip because Starfleet cadets were not permitted to carry weapons outside of designated areas. The sudden sound of chaos brought her back to the immediacy of danger she’d faced on Altamid, and made her heart race.  
  
But it was the scream that made it freeze mid-beat.  
  
The thing was, in engineering, things were banging and clanging and booming all the time. And Montgomery Scotty was shouting and cursing all the time.  
  
What made Jaylah freeze, what made Jaylah not drop, but _throw_ her wrench down and break into a run, was the fact that Montgomery Scotty had not sworn, not cursed, not thrown out some colorful phrase about his grandmother or earth-pigs.  
  
All he’d done was scream.  
  
The other workers and technicians always moved carefully on the precarious platforms, but Jaylah moved with the same fluid speed she’d always had, built from years and years of running, jumping, and dodging machinery and rocks and enemies. Montgomery Scotty was sitting on the floor, back pressed up against the wall. His leg was stretched out in front of him and it looked _wrong._  
  
Jaylah thought back to an attacker on Altamid, a female of a species with a large mouth that took up most of her face. She had been forced to kick the female over the edge of a cliff, and when she’d gone to scavenge the female’s weapons and equipment, Jaylah saw that her legs had broken and twisted.  
  
Montgomery Scotty’s leg looked like that. Not _quite_ as severe, but still… Still bad.  
  
For a moment, Jaylah’s better senses fail her; on Altamid she would have immediately been assessing the wound and trying to figure out how to best repair it, or brace it until she could. But there was already a technician kneeling next to Montgomery Scotty and examining the injury. There was no need for her assistance. How strange, for there to be a problem that did not require her to personally solve it.  
  
After a moment, she knelt down next to Montgomery Scotty. “Aye, lass,” He croaked hoarsely, flexing his fists as he tried to stay calm. “You alright?”  
  
Jaylah cocked her head at him. “That is a foolish question.”  
  
“Suppose so, yeah.” No wit. That was concerning.  
  
“What happened? Where is Keenser?”  
  
“Went to get help. Be back soon, I suspect. Pipe fell. ‘s over there.” The pipe in question had been rolled away from him, pushed up against a wall. She could see blood on it.  
  
Jaylah looked at his leg again. “It looks poorly.” She was still not in the custom of censoring herself, though Montgomery Scotty had gently suggested that she display “ _tact_ ” whilst at the Starfleet Academy.  
  
“Does, doesn’t it?”  
  
Still no wit. This was not the Montgomery Scotty she knew. Jaylah had only ever seen him in momentary flashes of pain: a shock from a loose wire, a bump from a low-hanging pipe, a wrench accidentally pinching a finger. She had never seen him in the sort of pain that makes a human paler than they should be, that turns a talkative, energetic man into a near-silent, carefully-still one.  
  
“Miss,” One of the technicians said, giving Jaylah an unfriendly look, “Maybe you should back off. Give him space.”  
  
“Bugger off, Janis, she’s hurting nothing and I’d rather be listen to her commentary on my bloody leg than listen to you micromanage every semi-sentient organism in a mile-wide radius!”  
  
Jaylah and Janis both were surprised by the outburst. Montgomery Scotty was uncharacteristically sharp in his address. Usually criticism was spoken with humor- a manner that Jaylah had difficulty adjusting to. Her people (what she could remember of them, anyway) were blunt, and life had had little humor in it, or softness for that matter. Why someone to cushion their words with laughter and light tone was difficult for her to understand. But that was how Montgomery Scotty was.  
  
Usually.  
  
Janis backed off, evidently recognizing that Montgomery Scotty, and by extension, Jaylah, was not to be pushed right now. Jaylah sat down next to Montgomery Scotty, drawing her knees to her chest.  
  
“Can I help?”  
  
It was a foolish question, but one she felt strangely compelled to ask anyway. Obviously there was nothing she could- or should- do right now. Now was a time to wait for the (evidently) _incredibly slow_ medical personnel to make their way to the hangar bay. A couple of anxious technicians were running back and forth between the hanger and the door to see if they were coming. Another few were waving off curious and concerned onlookers.  
  
Montgomery Scotty managed a strained smile. One of his hands unclenched and patted hers. Jaylah detected a tremble. “Thanks, lassie.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Talk, maybe? Something to focus on.”  
  
“How did the pipe fall?”  
  
“Not sure. Must’ve come loose.”  
  
Jaylah hoped it had nothing to do with whatever Keenser had been climbing all over before. One thing she had learned since being accepted into the Academy was that they were very good at “getting their guy”, as James T. put it, and didn’t want him in any trouble. Not too much, anyway.  
  
She eyed the blood on the floor. “Shouldn’t you have a tourniquet on it?”  
  
Montgomery Scotty actually _shuddered_ , and shook his head. “Rather not touch it, lass. Blood’s not that bad.”  
  
What else was there to talk about? Was Jaylah meant to prattle on about the weather, or about her classes? Montgomery Scotty’s leg looked _terrible_ and the medical personnel _still_ hadn’t shown up, and talking was not fixing the problem. Talking had fixed very, very few problems in her life. Action was better, always better, but action is not what she can do right now.  
  
“Uncomfortable?”  
  
Montgomery Scotty was looking at her, still strained, still paler than he should be, but now he looked concerned as well. “What?”  
  
“The leg, is it bothering you? You don’t have to sit here if it is.”  
  
Jaylah gave him an odd look. “Your leg looks bad. I have seen worse.” She gnawed her lip for a moment. “There should be doctors here now. Something should be _done_.”  
  
“Sometimes all you can do is wait.”  
  
“I do not like waiting.”  
  
Montgomery Scotty’s laugh was barely a shadow of its usual self. “I know you don’t, Jaylah.” He sucked in another deep breath. “Don’t worry yourself. Some of the pain’s calmed down now.”  
  
“That may not be good.”  
  
He rolled his eyes. “I’m aware, lass. I’m trying to stay positive here.”  
  
“HO-ly Jesus, Scotty, what the hell happened to your leg?!”  
  
Leonard McCoy was hurrying down the stairs to their location, a black bag in his right hand.  
  
Montgomery Scotty looked at Jaylah with a touch of his usual humor. “No bedside manner at all, that one.”  
  
“I do not know what is a ‘bedside manner’.”  
  
“It’s something that’s not gonna do crap to fix his leg, that’s what,” Leonard McCoy said in his usual, gruff way as he knelt down next to Montgomery Scotty.  
  
Frankly, Jaylah was just grateful that someone had finally showed up; two men in blue shirts were coming down the stairs now as well, one of them directing a floating... Jaylah did not know the word for it, as it had no equivalent in her scarcely-remembered original language, nor in any of the others she knew. It was meant to carry injured persons, that much she knew. Keenser was right behind them, moving as fast as he could.  
  
“Careful.”  
  
Leonard McCoy grimaced. “Yeah, this, uh… Brace yourself, okay? I’ll try to be gentle.”  
  
But with injuries like this one, ‘gentle’ just wasn’t enough, and Montgomery Scotty made a choked noise when Leonard McCoy started his examination, his left hand jumping to Jaylah’s shoulder and squeezing tightly.  
  
“Can’t you give him something for the pain?” Jaylah asked, alarmed at how much paler Montgomery Scotty was getting.  
  
Leonard McCoy shook his head. “I have to figure out where to put it first. I can’t just jam the hypo in anywhere if I want it to work.”  
  
Jaylah’s distress increased with Montgomery Scotty’s as his fingers dug more firmly into her shoulder. He hadn’t cried out, only making sharp, small noises indicating the level of pain he was feeling. That was surprising, as Montgomery Scotty was not a warrior, and as such was not accustomed to pain. His relative silence was admirable.  
  
And concerning, as it gave Jaylah the distinct impression that he was attempting to downplay the severity of the pain he was in. Which meant that it must be considerable, and in her experience, considerable pain could cause one to pass out.  
  
“Alright, alright, I think I’ve got it.” Leonard McCoy prepped the hypo.  
  
“You are not sticking it into the wound, are you?” Jaylah inquired.  
  
The doctor looked at her as though he were about to say something grumpy (it’s almost always grumpy with him, according to James T.), but then he shut his mouth and shook his head instead. “No. That’d just make me an asshole.”  
  
“And?” It was Montgomery Scotty who choked that out, still wan and shaking.  
  
Leonard McCoy rolled his eyes. “The man’s ready to pass out, but he still can’t resist. Deep breath, Scotty.”  
  
Montgomery Scotty jerked sharply and made a much louder, barely-contained noise behind his teeth when the hypo went in. It was close enough to the wound to be felt, and deep enough that even without the wound it would have hurt anyways.  
  
“Give it a second to kick in, then we’ll move him.” Leonard McCoy nodded at Jaylah. “So what happened? Someone finally try to shut him up?”  
  
“A pipe fell.” Jaylah nodded to the pipe, and Leonard McCoy looked over his shoulder. When he turned back, he had a pained look on his face.  
  
“Well, I guess I’ve seen worse. How you doing, Scotty?”  
  
“’s better.” Montgomery Scotty’s fingers had gradually loosened their grip on Jaylah’s shoulder, and finally his hand slid away. “Lot better, actually. Though now my head’s a bit funny.”  
  
Leonard McCoy gave a little nod to the two other men, and they carefully helped to maneuver Montgomery Scotty onto the floating object (Jaylah would have to ask what its name was a different time). In the time it took to do so, his eyes had gotten a bit glassy, unfocused, and his body was considerably less tense than before.  
  
“Yeah,” Leonard McCoy had his arms folded across his chest as he moved to stand next to Jaylah. “I may have given him a little more pain-killer than usual.”  
  
Montgomery Scotty started giggling, and Jaylah raised an eyebrow. “A little?”  
  
“Okay, I gave him a _lot_. Can you blame me?”  
  
“Not at all. When can I come see him?” Keenser made an affirmative noise, indicating that he shared the question.  
  
Leonard McCoy sighed. “Really? I mean-”  
  
“’s fiiiine,” Montgomery Scotty drawled. “I’ll be fine. Be back tomorrow, no problem. See you then, Shaylah, wee-man.” The medics ushered Montgomery Scotty away.  
  
Leonard McCoy’s face darkened. “Oh, he’s gonna be a pain in every part of my ass tonight, mark me,” He grumbled before following after them.  
  
True to his word, Montgomery Scotty was back the next day, hobbling along on a pair of crutches, bubbling and bright and humorous as ever. As though he hadn’t been in awful pain the day before. As if his leg weren't still damaged enough that he couldn't use it.  
  
Jaylah added it to the long list of things she admired about Montgomery Scotty, and then got back to work.


End file.
